


Non-Stop

by Haberdasher



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Has ADHD, Gen, Headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9422732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haberdasher/pseuds/Haberdasher
Summary: A description of Alexander Hamilton with ADHD.Originally written as part of the Every Single Day challenge. Read more about the challenge here: http://haberdashing.tumblr.com/post/155220938009/





	

Alexander just never stopped. It was part of his nature, something deep down inside him that always spurred him on, always kept him going, even back when he was a boy in Nevis and there was nowhere in particular for him to go, but still he would circle the streets, pace back and forth in whatever room he found himself in.

It was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing in that he always had the energy to press on, to rise to the occasion, but a curse when there was no occasion to rise to. The energy was always there, whether he needed it or not, and it would build and build and build until he did something, anything, to relieve it.

He wrote endlessly not just because he had a lot to say, but because it was the only way he could stay in one place- if if wasn’t his hand grasping a quill and dragging it across the paper, it would be his legs shaking or his fingers drumming, any little movement he could muster just so that he didn’t have to stay so dreadfully still. His spoken words would have been loud enough standing on their own, but he always accompanied them with grand gestures, his bold visions at once illustrated through flowery speech and mock actions.

It all worked out well enough during the busy times, and in Alexander’s life there were plenty of busy times. But after Philip’s death, the world seemed to grind to a halt- all except for that one part of his brain that whispered _move move move_ even as the rest of him wanted nothing more than to rest for once, to leave behind the world and collapse in his bed and perhaps never move again. So he took up walking, meandering through the neighborhood, movement that meant nothing (perhaps all of it had, in the end, meant nothing when compared to Philip) but was movement nonetheless, going nowhere but always, always  _going_.

It took forty-seven years before the ever-restless Alexander truly remained still, his constant movement stopped only by the hand of death.


End file.
